Malcolm could not help looking at Akhab Khan before he answered. The handsome young soldier had folded his arms, and his eyes dwelt on Roshinara's animated face with a sad fixity that bespoke at once his love and his despair. Then the Englishman placed the revolver in his belt and bowed low before the woman who reposed such confidence in him. "If the issue rested with me, Princess," he said, "you need have no fear for the future. I am only a poor officer and I have small influence. Yet I promise that such power as I possess shall be exerted in your behalf, and I would remind you that we English neither make war on woman nor treat honorable enemies as felons." "My father is a feeble old man," she cried vehemently. "It was not by his command that your people were slain. And Akhab Khan has never drawn his sword save in fair fight." "I can vouch for Akhab Khan's treatment of those who were at his mercy," said Malcolm, generously. "Nay, sahib, you repaid me that night," said the other, not to be outdone in this exchange of compliments. "But if I have the happiness to find such favor with my lady that she plots to save me against my will I cannot forget that I lead some thousands of sepoys who have faith in me. You have been examining our defenses all day. Sooner would I fall on my sword here and now than that I should connive at the giving of information to an enemy which should lead to the destruction of my men." Malcolm had foreseen this pitfall in the smooth road that was seemingly opening before him. "I would prefer to become the bearer of terms than of information," he said. "Terms? What terms? How many hands in this city are free of innocent blood? Were I or any other to propose a surrender we should be torn limb from limb." "Then I must tell you that I cannot accept your help at the price of silence. When I undertook this mission I knew its penalties. I am still prepared to abide by them. Let me remind you that it is I, not you, who can impose conditions within these four walls." Akhab Khan paled again. His was the temperament that shows anger by the token which reveals cowardice in some men; it is well to beware of him who enters a fight with bloodless cheeks and gray lips. But Roshinara sprang between them with an eager cry: "What folly is this that exhausts itself on a point of honor? Does not every spy who brings us details of each gun and picket on the Ridge tell the sahib-log all that they wish to know of our strength and our dissensions? Will not the man who warned us of the presence of an officer-sahib in our midst to-day go back and sell the news of a sepoy regiment's threat to murder the King? Have done with these idle words--let us to acts! Nawab-ji!" "Heaven-born!" Malcolm's guide advanced with a deep salaam. "See to it that my orders are carried out. Mayhap thine own head may rest easier on its shoulders if there is no mischance."